Maximum Ride: Plucked Poultry and Other Delicacies
by SapphireSecret
Summary: Max has a problem. An embarrassing problem. A problem that means for the foreseeable future, the flock needs to hide out in Gotham. It's a dangerous city and they might not make it out alive, but that might just be because Max will snap and murder all of those smug little bird kids if they don't stop laughing at her.
1. Chapter 1

**Maximum Ride: Plucked Poultry and Other Delicacies**

**Unimaginative disclaimer: I own nothing. This is the only time I'll be saying it.**

**Chapter One:**

_One week ago..._

_Max was sitting on the edge of a cliff, looking out over a beach in Maryland with her beautiful, thickly feathered wings stretched out behind her, soaking in the summer heat. It wasn't often that Max was vain but she had to admit, her wings were pretty rockin' awesome. The sun was high in the sky, seagulls sailed on warm air currents with their oddly shaped wings, and mutant bird kids played on the beach a hundred feet below. This was one of those rare good days in the lives of avian-American lab experiment escapees. _

_Below, there was a scream – Nudge. The Gasman had scooped up a stinking wad of rotting seaweed that had washed up on the beach and was chasing her with it. He was using his super-farts to propel himself in the water with a torrent of bubbles as he ran, probably poisoning the local wildlife while he was at it. Nudge, who was thigh-deep in water, was shrieking and bounding away in great leaps, each one easily taking her six or seven feet into the air. With Max's raptor vision, she could see the pink and blue ribbons on Nudge's tankini fluttering behind her. It was the most modest swimsuit Max could get the eleven-year-old to wear, with an open back for her wings and three bare inches of stomach showing. What if they got into a fight while she was wearing that thing?_

_"This one's green!" declared Iggy excitedly, waving a piece of broken glass in the air. He was walking around on the beach looking for shells and bits of things, Total trotting around by his heels. "Like emeralds! Or grass in the sun!"_

_"You're a friggin' poet, Iggy!" yelled Max, grinning. She'd never seen Iggy this happy before he'd discovered his new mutation that let him feel colors. They were all in such good moods that when the blind bird kid flashed her the bird (ha ha), she didn't even yell at him for doing it in front of the little kids._

_Max turned her gaze out over the water, searching for Angel. It was a habit to do constant head-counts. Of course, she couldn't see her; ever since her baby had grown gills – which made _no sense_ at all, but since Angel could read minds, why not be half-fish, too? – she had taken to exploring the underwater world whenever she could. This didn't mean Max didn't feel a tense coil of anxiety settle in her stomach whenever Angel didn't resurface for a long time, even though she knew she was fine. Her baby was going somewhere Max couldn't follow, making friends with sharks and jellyfishes; could be whisked away by a dolphin or an underwater current for all she knew..._

_With perfect timing, Angel's blonde head broke the surface of the water. She wiped her wet curls from her face and waved. On the shore, Total saw Angel and started barking in greeting._

_"_Don't worry about me, I won't go out too far,_" Angel's voice said in her head, accompanied by the sudden headache that always plagued whoever Angel spoke to with her mind. It was an annoying side-effect, but it was fading the more they used Angel's admittedly very useful ability._

_"_I know, I trust you. I'll always worry though_," thought Max in return, raising her hand to give a little wave._

_Suddenly, a shadow was cast over her. Fang had walked up behind her, and he shoved his super-special untraceable laptop in her face. "E-mail."_

_"Would it kill you to speak in complete sentences?" asked Max, taking the laptop and opening it up. Fang sat down next to her without a word, apparently not deeming her question worthy of a response._

_"It's from my mom!" exclaimed Max, feeling a thrill at the words. She would never get tired of having a mom. In seconds, every bird kid in the area was sitting around the computer, dipping and covered with sand._

_"What'd she say?" asked Angel eagerly._

_"She misses us," said Max, carefully reading the e-mail and soaking in every word typed by her mom, "She helped a horse give birth yesterday, which is cool. The mom and the baby are healthy. Ella says hi to everyone... Ugh!" said Max in disgust at what she read next, "and so does _Jeb._"_

_Fang's hands clenched into fists, and Angel's face pinched in anger. The rest of the flock said uncomplimentary things that Max let them get away with just because it was that traitorous, lying, abandoning jerk they were talking about._

_"What's _he _doing there?" asked Gazzy, scowling._

_"Apparently, he and my mom want us to meet with some...scientists," said Max slowly, reading further._

_Fang snorted, and Max had to agree. Everyone in the flock had a deep-seated hatred and mistrust of all scientists, but if there was anyone they got along with worse, it was Jeb. On top of that, the last time they'd seen Jeb wasn't exactly on good terms, which was another way of saying they'd gotten along like oil and water. Or more accurately, like a bomb in a train – explosive and prone to ending with dead bodies. Max touched the carefully woven dark red friendship bracelet on her wrist. According to Iggy, who was now their foremost expert on all things colorful, it was the shade of rose petals. Personally, it reminded Max of blood._

_What was Mom thinking?_

_"Max," said Nudge. "I like your mom and all, but is she crazy?"_

_"Figures something's wrong with her. I mean, it was her genes that helped make_ that _wackjob _–"_ Total was cut off with a yelp when Angel yanked him out of the way of Max's fist. _

_"Someday, Angel won't be here to protect you. And when that day comes..." Max trailed off, letting her fist smacking into her palm do the talking._

_"Violent, so very violent..." moaned Total. Angel scratched him soothingly behind the ears._

_Fang nudged Max, tilting his head questioningly._

_Max turned back to the e-mail. "Oh, they don't want to experiment on us."_

_There was a collective chuckle from the flock._

_"Or at least that's what they told Mom," said Max, shaking her head at her mom's gullibility, "According to her, they're environmentalists who want our help to run tests on stuff. With our special abilities, we should be able to get to more dangerous places they ever could, blah, blah, blah..."_

_"But we don't know anything about science," said Nudge. And really, she meant we didn't know _anything _about it. That was one of those pesky little things one missed out on when one didn't receive an education._

_Max shrugged. "Mom thinks we can help."_

_"What would we be studying?" asked Angel._

_"Global warming."_

_Iggy snorted. "Isn't that a hoax?"_

_"No it isn't!" said Nudge, "It's a real danger, you know. The whole world's heating up."_

_"How d'you know?"_

_Nudge tossed her soaking wet hair over her shoulder. "I heard about it on TV and in a magazine."_

_"Yeah, well I heard about aliens leaving messages in cornfields on TV, but I'm not gullible enough to believe everything I hear, so – OW!"_

_"Iggy, stop teasing Nudge. Nudge, don't throw rocks at the blind kid. Neither of you know anything about the topic, so stop taking a stance on it," ordered Max, reaching back to scratch an itch on her wing. "Now, do we wanna meet with these bozos or not?"_

_There was a chorus of 'No's and one 'Heck no,' but they were drowned out by Angel's adamant 'Yes!' _

_Max looked at her questioningly._

_"Everyone has to do their part for the environment," Angel responded with surprising fervor. Max raised her eyebrows at her, exchanging a quick glance with Fang. He shrugged, apparently not knowing where this sudden interest came from either. Hopefully it wouldn't become some new obsession._

_"Only you can prevent wildfires," said Gazzy, sounding exactly like Smokey the bear. Everyone laughed – well, except for Fang, but he smiled slightly, and from him that was like full belly-aching laughter – while Angel pouted._

_"This is serious!" the six-year-old bird kid exclaimed._

_"Sorry Angel, you're outvoted," said Max, "Besides, it's always a bad idea to meet with scientists, especially ones who are friends with Jeb. Even if everyone wanted to go I don't think I would let you. Beside, these guys are professionals. They don't need us."_

_"But Max," said Angel, a hint of a whine entering her voice, "grown-ups are the ones ruining the environment. We can't leave it to them. We're the new generation, the planet is going to be ours someday. We have to do something!"_

_What the heck was this kid watching on TV?_

_"Angel, sweetie," said Max, trying to think of how to explain herself, "Grown-ups might be hurting the environment, but they're also the ones fixing it. Like those scientists my mom wants us to meet, or...Greenpeace. Those guys. They're grown-ups. And kids are doing it, too. There are plenty of teenagers driving gas guzzlers. Heck, whenever we've stolen a car, it's been a great big one so we all fit."_

_"I prefer the word 'borrowed,'" said Iggy. "It's less...incriminating."_

_"But I wanna help," said Angel, looking up at Max with big, pleading blue eyes. With a face like that, it was a wonder Angel even needed mind controlling powers at all._

_"Then put out your campfires, throw your trash away where it belongs, and don't leave the lights on," said Max. "That's all we can do. If we start running around trying to save the world, it'll be like sticking a great big target on our backs. Our job is to survive, nothing else." Max had enough trouble trying to keep her flock alive and relatively happy to be worrying about everyone else. Yikes. "Plus, it would ruin our _other _plans if we got involved in something like that. Okay?"_

_Angel nodded unhappily, hugging Celeste to her chest. Geez, that bear was dirty. It was hard to believe it used to be white. Next chance they got Max was going to clean it._

_"Alright, you've all got ten minutes to get dressed, pack up, and then we're leaving," said Max, addressing the flock as a whole. This was met with a bunch of groaning. "By then I'll be done sending a reply to Mom. And don't whine at me, we've been here all morning. It's time to go."_

_Ten minutes and a couple of arguments later found the flock diving off the cliff and wheeling into the clear blue sky. Their destination: New Jersey._

_No one noticed they were leaving behind a trail of something...well, pretty dang important._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two:**

Present day...

Max _detested _cities. Absolutely hated them. Just being around them was enough to make her feel trapped, or like she was in the middle of someone's crosshairs – a feeling Max wasn't unfamiliar with. There were people were _everywhere, _walking on the streets, riding in cars, and leaning out of windows. Every single one of them could pull a gun or snap a picture that could make it onto the internet, and every passing vehicle could veer off the road and try to make feathery flapjacks out of them, or suddenly have Erasers bursting out of those stupid tinted windows each van seemed to have... It was enough to make a girl develop a twitch.

"You should calm down," Iggy had advised early that morning with a stupid smirk on his face, "If you keep stressing out like this, you'll go prematurely bald –"

Iggy was then unable to continue talking due to a bad case of fist-in-his-face.

Her flight-or-fight instinct being rubbed raw aside, Max – rather optimistically of her, actually, Ella would be proud – had to admit that they had one thing going for themselves: an Eraser would stick out a mile away here. All of the people around them were tired, gray, and run down in a way Erasers never were, like Gotham was sucking the life out of them. They hurried to get home before dark, their eyes glued to the sidewalk. It was like they thought if they made eye contact with anyone they would be attacked.

Max observed each passerby, looking for someone a bit too healthy-looking, too attentive, or simply had that _School _stench hanging around them. She used reflective surfaces whenever possible to avoid any obvious three hundred sixty degree checks for danger. The thick crowds and tall buildings with multitudes of shadowy crevices were perfect hiding places for enemies. However, that also meant it was very easy to get lost here, to become hidden in the darkness of the city.

That was what the flock was counting on. With their present condition – _Max's_ present condition – they couldn't afford getting into any fights since an up-and-away would be impossible.

Max reached back and scratched at the general area where a regular human would have shoulder blades. Her wings _itched_, badly. And to add the cherry on top of her perfect day, she had a headache. It throbbed in her temples just on the edge of acknowledgement, hovering over her like a shadow, which was almost more annoying than a full-blown migraine.

Quickly, Max shoved the thought from her head before Angel could pick up on it and feel guilty.

She cast her gaze on her surroundings. Wherever Max looked there were massive, gothic brick buildings looming dozens of stories high. They obscured the darkening sky as gargoyles leered down over their sides. Every other street light was shattered, especially in the alleys and side streets they'd scoped out. Windows on the buildings they'd passed were broken or boarded up, their walls decorated with graffiti. Some of the paint smelled fresh. Apparently people in this part of town didn't believe in trash cans; garbage was strewn all along the sidewalk and clogging up the gutter. Thick clouds of steam rose from the sewers, shrouding the streets in noxious fog and making Max long for clean, fresh air. If it was possible, Gotham smelled even more horribly polluted than New York.

Then again, the flock didn't go to the big apple in the middle of a particularly sweltering, steamy July – maybe stink was a seasonal thing.

Wearing a less-than-morally acquired black hoodie with the hood up to hide her face (laundry mats really should protect their customers' clothes better), Max felt very much like an angst-ridden emo kid. Trotting beside her was Angel wearing a blue hoodie and a ruffly black skirt over her jeans, her smaller hand held inside of Max's. Celeste was tucked into the waistband of Angel's skirt like a baby kangaroo, the stuffed bear's wire halo jiggling with each step they took. On Max's other side walked Nudge, her black hair hidden under a pink baseball hat with a couple of ringlets falling loose, framing her face. As she kept up a running commentary on The World of Nudge, the bird kid's brown eyes were unusually sharp as she scanned their surroundings. Warm pride burgeoned in Max's chest at her sister keeping herself safe. Here, in the crime capital of America, they all had to be extra careful. Even as they walked down the street, Max saw a couple of figures in an alley exchanging suspicious paper bags.

According to Angel, everyone was so scared of the Batman that daytime was now when most crimes were committed. It was safer...for the criminals. More dangerous for everyone else.

The three of them plus Total quickly walked the two city blocks to the rendezvous point where they would meet the boys, a subway on Third Street. And no, it wasn't the fun kind of Subway where one could get delicious sandwiches, but the smelly, underground kind that poor people commuted on and even poorer people lived in.

Max remembered their brief stay among the hobos in a New York City subway, and hoped they wouldn't have a repeat experience here.

Angel sat down tiredly on the sidewalk by the stairway leading down into the subway, something that probably would have given a real mother a conniption. Max felt bad; they'd been walking since the early morning and the kids had to be feeling it. She'd offered to carry her littlest bird kid, but Angel had refused. Nudge sat down next to Angel and began flipping through a fashion magazine she had salvaged from a dumpster, making comments that Max hmm'd and nodded to at appropriate intervals.

All they had to do now was wait for the boys.

As the city grew darker, the stream of Gothamites on the sidewalk thinned. The children across the street that had been playing with the trash in the gutters began to disperse, not because anyone told them to, but out of good self-preservation.

One of them headed straight toward them, a somewhat dirty little girl around Angel's age. Max watched her sharply. She probably wasn't a threat, but she could easily be hiding some sort of dangerous mutation – it wasn't like the School never used children for weapons or anything –

"Can I pet your doggy?" the kid asked, peering hopefully at Total.

Max raised her eyebrows and bit back a completely hypocritical "I don't know, _can _you?" born out of sheer crankiness. So, the girl probably wasn't an enemy, and Max wasn't getting any bad scents off of her... But if she wasn't a threat, what was wrong with this kid? Didn't she knew that in Gotham people just didn't go up to strangers and talk to them? That was like begging for trouble.

Nudge opened her pie hole, and Max placed a hand over it before she could say something ridiculous, like yes.

"That's not a good idea," Max told the little girl, "he's a biter."

In a rare show of support, Total growled a bit, baring his little white fangs when the girl looked doubtful that such a small dog could be dangerous. It was...cute.

Which was probably why the girl had come to bug them in the first place. Much to his chagrin, Total was looking pretty cuddly. The fluffy, black cairn terrier was sitting by Angel's feet and wearing – it was a miracle, truly – a _very_ loose blue leash around his neck in order to keep some do-gooder policeman from stopping them for having an improperly restrained dog.

Truthfully, Max doubted that would happen, at least in this city where do-gooder popo's were an endangered species, but when the flock was so vulnerable it was better safe than sorry. Plus, the hilarity of Total on a leash. It couldn't be missed. And Max was tired of being the only miserable one in their kooky bunch of mutants, so bonus.

"He's also got fleas," added Max, and suddenly Total's growl was much more menacing. Also, directed at herself. It was still this-side-of-adorable, but it was either the growling or the fleas that did the trick because the girl went away, looking alarmed.

"Max, why couldn't she pet him? She looked so sad, maybe petting Total could've brightened up her day a bit," said Nudge immediately, her big brown eyes full of mushy compassion for the girl.

Nudge was sweet. Too caring for her own good and way too gullible, but sweet. And that was why Max would _not _snap at her. She wouldn't.

"I don't know if you remember, but Total's got a couple of _growths _on his back. We wouldn't want anyone petting him to get startled," explained Max.

Of course, by 'growths' she was referring to the completely inexplicable _wings _the dog had suddenly started growing – like, _what the heck_ nature/scientists, whoever – that she couldn't just talk about in the middle of the street. Because, Total. He's a dog. He shouldn't have wings. To be fair they were all kids with wings and one of them even had gills, so maybe Max shouldn't talk. But _still_ – Total definitely had human DNA in him too, and a canine/human/avian mix seemed like one of those things that should have fallen apart in the lab, probably gruesomely, before it even started. Yet they existed: thin black wings not quite big enough to fly with that folded neatly, almost invisibly against his back like they were meant to be there.

Max had told Total that if the wings became too obvious, she would let Angel buy little doggy sweaters for him. The look of horror he'd given her was _delightful_.

"Oohhh, that makes sense," said Nudge in realization.

"Stupid brats...no, you can _not_...grubby little hands...don't have _fleas_..." Total was grumbling to the concrete quietly enough that only mutants with enhanced hearing could hear him. That along with the fact that he was willingly wearing a leash was the only reason why Max didn't kick him for talking in public.

"_Ma-_ax!" whined Angel at Max's thoughts, looking up at her reproachfully.

"Deal with it, sweetie," said Max, not unkindly, "If the dog gets us into trouble I get to respond, preferably with violence."

"I'll bite you," threatened Total.

Max considered telling Total that not only would she bite back, but that she would do more damage than his cutsie-wootsie fangs ever could – something that was deeply insulting for a dog – but decided to be the bigger person and say nothing. This was mostly because she couldn't bring herself to say cutsie-wootsie without needing to wash her mouth out, just a bit less because it was sad to get into a fight with a dog, and also because they were in public.

And damn – _darn_, she meant darn, thought Max with a quick glance at Angel – _darn _Fang for letting Angel keep the dog anyway. They were on the run, they should not have any pets. Next thing she knew Iggy was going to want a talking snake or something. He and the Gasman would probably chase Max around with it too, in an effort to _convince _her, because they were turds that way.

Max's headache suddenly got worse, preceding Angel's chiding voice in her head, "_Max, Total is part of our flock now. He's family, too._"

"Yeah, yeah," grumbled Max aloud, resisting the urge to rub her temples.

"Where are Fang and Iggy and Gazzy?" asked Nudge. "D'you think they're okay? What if they got hurt looking for a place to stay? We've been waiting for a long time –"

"Only for about half an hour," said Max, a bit sharper than she'd intended. She softened it by adding, "They're big boys, and my birdie senses aren't tingling. They'll be fine."

Despite what she'd just said, Max still took a deep breath through her nose, concentrating on finding the familiar scent of her flock. Angel and Nudge were the strongest, of course, and smelled healthy. Filtering past the horrible city smells assaulting her was the hard part, but when she did she realized the boys...were closer than she'd thought they would be. Only a street or so to the South. Unharmed, too.

"Oh, that's good," said Angel, smiling.

"What?" asked Nudge.

"The guys are coming!"

A minute later, the boys turned the corner and were walking toward them. Fang was...well, he was Fang, which meant he was as inscrutable as always. Max noticed that even while wearing blue jeans and an unbuttoned black and white flannel shirt over his green T-shirt (Fang's disguise was to wear color, which Max thought was hilarious) he still looked more emo than she did. Gazzy was much more telling, his young face flushed with excitement over his faded Superman sweatshirt; Iggy, who was bullied into wearing sunglasses, had a bounce in his step that bordered on cheerful.

Max was instantly suspicious.

"Don't worry, they haven't blown anything up," Angel assured her. Strangely enough, Max was not comforted.

Gazzy bounded up and announced, "Max, we got mugged!"

"It was great," added Iggy.

Was that all? And here she'd been all worried.

"I bet they don't know what hit 'em," said Max.

"Yeah!" said Gazzy, "This guy came up behind us and grabbed my shoulder, and –"

"Hang on just a sec," interrupted Max, holding up a hand, "First I want to talk about where we're gonna be staying, then you can tell your story on the way there."

Gazzy made a whining noise, but complied.

"Did you guys find anything good?" asked Iggy.

Max frowned. "Best we found was a hotel in the North side of the sweet spot with a little shed on the roof."

The 'sweet spot' was a half circle the flock had drawn on a map. Anywhere along the line was their ideal place to hide out. In the center of the crescent of the sweet spot was Crime Alley, the epicenter of illegal activities in Gotham, and on it's other side was the part of the city that started to be nicer. They wanted to stay somewhere between there, for maximum safety and camouflage. The sweet spot avoided the docks completely, which were on the other side of Crime Alley.

("The docks are where most bodies are dumped. A lot of big drug deals go down there too, like between the Triad or the Kobra Cult and the local cartels," Angel had supplied helpfully as the flock was looking over the map.

Max had tried not to wonder how she knew that.)

"It looked like no one had been in for a few years," Max continued, "It's better than the streets, but the place is really seedy and has more people than I'd like..." she trailed off, glancing down at Angel, then up at Fang.

Fang inclined his head, understanding. Neither of them wanted Angel around to hear the thoughts of the type of people who stayed in seedy hotels.

"There's a broken air conditioner up there that me or Iggy could probably fix up, and we'd have access to water 'cause of the giant tank thingy on the roof," offered Nudge, shrugging. "But the shed is super small. Like, we'd be rubbing elbows."

"Well then, you girls will be happy to know that we found the perfect place to stay," said Iggy, buffing his nails on his shirt.

"It's like, a million _zillion_ times better," the eight-year-old added smugly.

"Hey!" protested Angel, "You can't talk, you don't even know what it looks like. Only Fang has seen it!"

"You split up?" asked Max sharply.

"They waited outside," said Fang quietly, glancing pointedly at Iggy.

Max nodded, placated. Apparently wherever he'd went wasn't safe for Iggy to explore because he was blind, and he had Gazzy stay behind as well so Iggy wouldn't feel left out or be left alone. She really shouldn't have been worried – Fang was even more careful than she was.

"What is it?" asked Nudge, "What'd you find?"

"You'll see..." Gazzy sing-songed.

Fang walked away, gesturing for them to follow.

Max huffed, annoyed. She didn't like not knowing where she was going.

It was a forty-five minute walk to their destination, which was stupid because if they could have flown it would have taken less than two. (Max wanted to fly out of this place _so much._) They stuck close together; Fang took point with Iggy close behind, Nudge and Gazzy were next, Angel skipped slightly in front of Max as they held hands, Total trotted around everyone's ankles, trying his utmost to make them trip on the hated leash, and from the back Max kept one eye on all of them and the other on their shady surroundings. People stared at the group of children braving the dark streets of Gotham, but thankfully no one tried to start anything.

Gazzy chattered the whole way, telling them all about being mugged while Iggy interjected here and there. Nudge gasped at all the right places and asked leading questions, keeping Gazzy entertained. The story grew increasingly outrageous as time went on, one mugger turning into two, then three, then _five, _plus they all had knives, then _guns _(semi-automatic ones), and of course it was the Gasman that saved Iggy and Fang...

"Tch! You're such a liar, Gazzy," said Iggy.

Max was just amused, and judging from the amount of giggling coming from Angel, she was as well. The Gasman was a pretty good story teller. He was descriptive and used utterly convincing voices for everyone. Max's favorite part was when he depicted Fang begging Gazzy to save him (sounding exactly like him, too).

In response, Fang had simply exhaled in an exasperated manner.

Fang led them a bit closer to the docks and Crime Alley than Max would have preferred, but it was still a decent distance away. They skulked through dank, horrible smelling alleyways, past tall, derelict buildings that likely had squatters somewhere inside their crumbling shells, and finally to an itty-bitty courtyard that had seen better days.

"Awesome," breathed Nudge, craning her neck to stare up at their new hideout; Angel squeezed Max's hand tighter, her eyes huge; Total whistled lowly, and Max didn't bother wondering how a dog could whistle.

The boys looked very proud of themselves.

The courtyard belonged to an old stone church that had clearly been abandoned for more than one generation. The walls and the cracked, broken up slabs of rock in the courtyard were all covered in faded graffiti, adding to the whole 'abandoned' image. Like everything in Gotham, the church had been designed to make people feel as small as an ant. Although it wasn't as big in square feet as other churches they'd seen, it was freakin' _tall_. The main building was one big rectangle with a pointed roof slanting at a seventy-five degree angle and was easily over five stories. At one side of the rectangle was an enormous steeple twice as tall as the church itself, towering above all the other buildings in the area, and tipped with a cross. On the opposite side of the church was probably the reason why it was abandoned: the ceiling and wall had caved in, taking out a good third of the place. It looked like something had taken a giant bite out of it.

"Fang said that's where the front door used to be," said the Gasman, pointing at the caved in part.

"Great," said Max dryly, "So how are we gonna get in, Fang? 'Cause I'm not liking the look of those windows –" she looked around, realizing he wasn't there, "Fang?"

Two soft claps echoed from somewhere, and after a couple seconds of searching Max spotted his dark form waving from the shadows next to the church.

_I need to get that boy a bell,_ thought Max as she stomped over to him.

"Stop turning invisible all the time or I'm gonna get paranoid," she snapped.

"You, paranoid?" said Fang, a touch sardonically, "And I didn't."

"Yeah right," muttered Max. For as long as she'd known Fang, he had always been disappearing and sneaking up on her. Now that he could literally turn invisible and Max had _that_ handy scapegoat, she'd use it all she wanted. (What? Someone sneak up on _the _Maximum Ride? Not without a superpower, they couldn't!)

Pulling aside a plank of wood leaning against the wall, Fang revealed a hole in the wreckage big enough for slim bird kids with wings to crawl through.

Once inside, Max couldn't help but grimace.

The church they had visited in New York had been bright, clean, and had a serene air to it. It had felt safe.

This place was creepy as all get out.

Swaths of cobwebs were strung every which way, dirt covered everything, and unseen things scuttled and squeaked in the darkness, making Nudge edge nervously closer to the group. Debris covered the floor, shards of glass and bricks sticking out dangerously. Rows of windows, which were tall, thin affairs that had probably once been very beautiful, were now gaping holes staring out at at the city with knives of stained glass sticking out of their frames like teeth. The caved-in side of the room had thick wooden beams wedged in place from floor to ceiling. They were probably the only things keeping the ceiling and wall from falling in on them.

The flock made short work of exploring the ground floor, Fang helping Iggy avoid hurting himself on all the sharp things on the ground. Max observed them from the corner of her eyes, but did nothing – Iggy was prickly about who he let help him and for some reason he got annoyed when Max tried to.

Their most important discovery was also the most obvious one: the bats. There had to have been a couple hundred of them carpeting the ceiling of the main worship room, and they found more behind doors leading to what might have been prayer rooms or large storage closets, and one larger place that probably used to be an office. Everyone in the flock had developed a fondness for bats when they'd had flown with a colony of them in Virginia. In a way, they were more like them than birds were. They were flying mammals, too. Plus, they had opposable thumbs. Not something many animals could brag about.

"Don't bother them," ordered Max, "This was their home first, we're just staying here for a bit."

Besides that, the most they found were some crusty shells of thick books – maybe Bibles, maybe hymnals, who knew – damaged beyond repair by years of rain; enough bat poop to fertilize a farm; a rusty, broken metal thing with some glass in it that might have once been a gas lamp; a box of candles, but no matches; and some animal nests. (_"Ew, ew, ew!" squealed Nudge as she fled across the room, leaping over pews in her haste. In the distance, Iggy was snickering. "I _hate _rats, I hate, hate, hate them! They're so _gross!_"_) Of the dozen or so hard wooden pews that weren't crushed, most of them were eaten hollow by bugs. The only thing that remained untouched was a ginormous, dark wood cross affixed to the wall above the pulpit, so tall it almost disappeared into the darkness of the high, pointed ceiling. It had a presence to it that creeped Max out, like it was staring at her or something.

"Why would they want to take a bath in the middle of a church?" Angel's voice echoed from behind the pulpit, making Max jump. The six-year-old was carrying Total in her arms so he wouldn't cut his paws on the glass. To Max's disappointment, Angel had removed the leash at the earliest opportunity and placed it neatly in her backpack. She had picked it out herself, saying it matched Total's eyes.

"Maybe it's an exhibitionist church," suggested Gazzy, his hair covered in cobwebs.

"Do those exist?" Angel sounded surprised.

Max went to see what they were talking about and found a small set of stairs leading down to a large in-ground bathtub hidden behind a low wall. It was filled with years of mulch and dead things, like bugs and mouse skeletons. Max wondered if it used to be something's nest.

"It was probably for baptisms," said Max.

Soon, the flock was heading through the stone archway to a narrow spiral staircase leading up the tower. There was no railing, so they stuck close to the wall – it wasn't quite big enough for Iggy, Fang, and Max to spread their wings if they fell, though the younger kids could probably have managed it. Inside the stairway it was total, inky darkness, even with their enhanced eyesight, making the occasional bat flying by very startling.

"This would be really easy to booby trap," commented Iggy as they climbed. Obviously, he was the only one unbothered by the darkness.

The staircase ended at a landing that had a bit of light filtering down from above. It probably wouldn't have been enough for a regular human to see by, but the flock had excellent night vision. Overhead, beams of wood at different heights crisscrossed, creating something almost like a lattice. Between them all a latter hung down just above their heads.

Upon climbing it, the flock found the belfry.

It was fairly large, with polluted city air breezing in from windows all around the circular steeple. It smelled like car exhaust and rotting things, but it was still better than the stale, dusty stench from below. In the middle of the ceiling there was a dark, square-shaped hole big enough for one person to fit through, and there was an old rope ladder that Max didn't trust slung over the edge. The floor consisted of a creaky wooden walkway thick enough for three people to walk side-by-side comfortably, going all around the curved wall; there was no floor in the middle of the room, which was where the ladder came up. Above the center of the circular hole in the floor, a single huge, tarnished iron bell was suspended on a thick horizontal rod. Nailed to the ceiling next to the bell was a contraption with a pulley, a heavy-looking hammer, and a dangling rope.

"No ringing the bell," decreed Max before anyone had a chance to do anything. "If you do, we're moving to the shed on the hotel roof."

"We have a bell?" said Iggy, interested.

"This is the coolest hideout _ever,_" said Gazzy in awe, his voice echoing in the bell. He grinned, "COOL!"

His voice reverberated loudly, making Max cringe. "Gazzy, shh! Don't be so loud –"

"This is awesome! We can be like, in the _Hunchback of Notre Dame_, living in the bell tower!" said Nudge, spinning with her arms spread wide as she observed their cozy little tower. If she tripped on a loose floorboard or something it would be her own fault. "'Cept we can't ring the bell, which is sad, and we don't have a horrible disfiguration, which is _not _sad but even if we did I bet modern doctors could take care of that anyway. But my point is this place is _amazing!_" she ran over, bracing her elbows against a windowsill and leaning half-way out of it, "And look at that view!"

"Yup. That view really is something else," said Iggy sarcastically.

"I wish we could always stay in towers," said Angel, looking so adorably enchanted, "like a princess locked away from the world. But we wouldn't be locked up, because we could free fall out of the windows and fly as much as we wanted. I would want a really big tower, with lots of books and toys and animals. We could dance and throw balls..."

"With cute boys and hot dance instructors, 'cause no one here could dance their way out of a paper bag," said Nudge.

"Sounds like my kind of dance lesson," said Iggy, tracing a curvy figure in the air with his fingers.

Max smacked him upside the head. "Don't be a sexist pig, Iggy," she said, ignoring his whining. (_"Oww, sadist..."_)

"And there'd be lots of food!" added Gazzy, oblivious.

"Here, here!" called Total.

Struck by a sudden thought, Max looked at Fang with her eyebrows raised questioningly. Fang nodded.

Good, he had fed Gazzy and Iggy while they were exploring. One less thing for Max to take care of.

"And we'd have cannons to fight off invaders," continued Gazzy, "And a moat. With _alligators._"

"Sounds like my kind of tower," said Max, her smile strained. Her wings itched so much they _burned._ "I would want to be far away from cities, and have hawks to fly with. Also, a life time supply of chocolate chip cookies would be wonderful."

"And snickerdoodles!" added Nudge. "And we should have cars, too!"

"We should also have horses to ride," said Angel decisively, clearly considering the matter very seriously. "Hippopotamuses...es, too."

"Massages every day," said Total dreamily. "Also, bacon. Lots of it."

"What about you, Fang?" asked Nudge, kicking her older brother lightly. "What would you want in your tower?"

Everyone turned to look at Fang expectantly. He was sitting with his feet dangling down the steep drop down the tower, and Max thought he looked...content.

"...Swords," he answered after a long moment.

"Ooh," said Gazzy, his eyes big. "Playing with _swords..._"

"My dance instructor could play with my sword any time," said Iggy, wiggling his eyebrows. Max tried to punch him, but Iggy flung himself to the floor and rolled behind Angel for protection.

"I'll save you, Iggy!" she promised, wrapping her small arms around his shoulders. It worked, too – they were just so freakin' _cute_ Max was too busy getting cavities to to pound Iggy's skull in.

"And our cannons could shoot fireworks! That me and Iggy make in our private chemical lab!" exclaimed Gazzy.

_Over my dead body, _thought Max, exchanging a horrified glance with Fang. Total shuddered dramatically; Nudge groaned; Angel's laugh resounded eerily in the bell.

Iggy, who had missed all of the side play, said, "We would do amazing things with our own lab..."

"Amazing things that would get you arrested by the FBI," snorted Max.

"We're not _that _bad," said Gazzy. Seeing the looks on their faces, he amended, "Well, we wouldn't get _caught _anyway."

"It isn't illegal if you don't get caught," declared Iggy.

"The day you two get your own private chemical lab is the day of the apocalypse," declared Nudge. "Fire and brimstone and all of that."

Max laughed with the rest of them, but it was tense and uncomfortable. She loved these moments with her flock, when they could find these pockets of happiness even while they were on the run, but keeping up a good face for the flock was tiring in a way that dragged at her bones. The itching in her wings was becoming unbearable. She needed to be alone. To let her walls down for a little while.

"Seriously though, try not to get too attached 'cause we're only going to be here for a little while," warned Max in her 'leader' voice.

"Killjoy," complained the Gasman.

"Max, don't be such a sour octopus," said Nudge. Whatever _that _was supposed to mean.

"I'm going up there for a bit to change clothes," said Max, pointing to the hole in the ceiling. "So stay out."

Turning to Angel, who was sitting in Iggy's lap, Max thought, "_Sweetie, I'd like some privacy now, okay?_"

"_Okay. Thanks for letting me hide in here,_" Angel's voice replied, and in the physical world she smiled sweetly. Max felt Angel withdraw from her mind, leaving a wave of lightheadedness in her wake, and immediately the headache that had been slowly hammering at her all day vanished.

Which would be all well and good and relieving if it didn't somehow make her wings itch even more.

"Any time," said Max aloud, returning her smile with a little one of her own.

The biggest problem with Angel's ability to read minds was that she couldn't turn it off. She heard everyone's thoughts all the time, which was _very _bad in highly populated places like cities. However, something Angel _could _do was narrow her focus onto one person, or onto a group of people. They had discovered this back in New York – with millions of minds all in one place, Angel had instinctively tried to block everyone else out by focusing on individuals, just to keep her own mind from being overrun by everyone else's thoughts. That was how she found out she could control minds and search through people's memories, not just listen in on whatever thoughts they were having at the moment.

Immediately, Max had offered to let Angel focus on _her_ mind when she needed to hide away from the thoughts of everyone in the world. She greatly preferred having her baby in her own mind, where she knew what she was hearing, rather than experiencing who-_knows_-what in a stranger's mind. All Max had to do was carefully censor what happened in her own head, which was pretty much what she did all the time anyway.

Fang had offered to help, but after talking about it they agreed that it was probably healthier for Angel to spend her time in another girl's mind, rather than splitting her time between both of theirs'. Fang had then suggested that they ask Nudge to help out, so that less stress would be on Max, but Max had said she could handle it.

Besides, Nudge had less practice controlling her thoughts than Max did. Angel would probably get whiplash if she spent too much time in that noggin.

Forgoing the worn rope ladder, Max jumped up and caught the edge of the hole, easily swinging up inside the little room at the top of the tower. This one was much smaller, with only four evenly spaced windows. In each one a rusty, old, iron gas lantern hung. The ceiling was a giant cone, proving the pointy steeple roof was hollow. Little black eyes blinked down at her; the bats really were everywhere in here.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor where she couldn't be seen if someone looked up, Max eased out of her hoodie and shirt, hissing as the fabric rubbed against her sensitive wings. Clumps of feathers fell to the dirty tower floor, followed by the smaller, insulating feathers that fluttered down individually like fuzzy snowflakes. Painful pins and needles prickled all over her wings as she stretched them out.

Looking at them, Max had to swallow past the anguished lump that rose in her throat. Her wings had once been gorgeous, with brown feathers by her shoulders turning to speckled tan and cream towards the tips, but now they looked more like a plucked goose than anything. The ugly skin that used to be covered by feathers was pink with large, agitated pores. There were dozens of little red pimples all over, some of them swelling with yellow, pus-filled centers. Only a few little tufts of brown feathers remained, and only three off-white primary feathers were left, sticking out awkwardly like a couple of teeth in a mouth that was all gums.

The thing about feathers was, well, they were important. Very important. Without them...

Max couldn't fly.

Something in her chest caved in on itself, and Max buried her face in her knees, hugging her legs. She couldn't fly. _She couldn't fly. _It was like being trapped in a cage all the time_. _Her eyes grew warm, and she sat there and simply _shook._ Resisting the urge to claw at her naked wings. Or scream. Or cry. But there wasn't enough air down here on the ground to scream or cry or fight or do anything else, she needed to be up in the sky and surrounded by the crisp, thin air to breath, there was a metal band around her lungs, she couldn't fly, there was no air, _she couldn't breath –_

Max tried taking deep, trembling breaths. Trying to avoid a panic attack. Like she had the first time she had tried flying when her primaries had started falling out a few days ago, and failed miserably.

Thank heavens only Fang had been there. And he wasn't too much of a jerk about it – he'd only called her a crybaby in private. He had then proceeded to run for his damn _life, _because Max gave a truly admirable effort to end his sorry existence.

There was a thump, and Max jerked her head up to see a large, pale-skinned hand gripping the edge of the hole. Either Fang or Iggy, then.

Max snatched up her hoodie and clutched it to her chest – she was only wearing her bra. "Go away, you creep!" she snarled, shoving aside her almost-panic attack and hiding her misery in her anger, "Geez, didn't you hear me say I'm changing clothes?"

"Ew," complained Gazzy distantly, followed by something about "cooties."

Judging by the lack of a snarky response, it was Fang. Just flippin' great. At least Iggy was blind.

"Don't make me break your fingers," said Max threateningly.

There was a rustling of plastic, and a crumpled shopping bag sailed at her from below. Max caught it mid-air.

"Went to a drug store," said Fang in lieu of a proper explanation, and the fingers disappeared.

Curious about what made Fang interrupt what had been becoming a spectacular pity party, Max opened it up and discovered four tubes of Hydrocortisone Anti-Itch Cream and one large tube of Desitin. She stared at the latter for a second, trying to remember where she had seen it before. Then she remembered: years ago, she had used it on Angel.

"Seriously? You got me stuff for diaper rashes?" shouted Max.

Snickers rose from the room below.

"He calls it like he sees it!" called Gazzy, the brat.

"You know what he should have gotten you? One of those special brushes for dogs," said Iggy, and Max narrowed her eyes because he was wandering into very dangerous territory, "You're shedding all over the place!"

"I take offence to that," muttered Total.

Looking down, Max realized the wind was blowing her feathers down the hole. She rolled her eyes. Fantastic. That wasn't embarrassing at all.

"It's like you've forgotten that I know where you sleep," said Max conversationally. "And that I'm so much more vicious than any of you will ever be. And that I taught you all everything you know about fighting."

The flock tittered. Or perhaps _twittered_ would be a better word, Max thought with a little smile.

Ah, bird puns.

Nudge called, "Hey Max, I'm coming up!"

"Uh, _no_ you're not!" snapped Max, but two brown hands had already caught the lip of the hole in the floor, and Nudge swung herself up, landing gracefully on her feet.

Picking up a tube of ointment, Nudge began squirting it onto her hands.

"What do you think you're doing?" said Max grumpily.

"I know it's really hard to get to some places on your wings, so I'm giving you a wing massage. I'll probably be more gentle than you would be anyway. You'd probably just injure yourself more – yikes, that's a lot of pimples," said Nudge, walking behind Max. "What they _should_ have gotten you was some Proactive..."

"Tell me about it," grumbled Max, hugging her knees to her chest again.

"That's more than I needed to know!" shouted Iggy from below.

"Someone hit him!" yelled Max.

The yelps and exclamations of pain from below were music to her ears. It sounded like her orders were being followed with relish.

Max sighed in pure bliss as Nudge lathered the ointment onto the bumpy skin of her wings. Cool cream and careful hands soothed her agonized wings and loosened her tense shoulders. No more itching. Sometimes it got so bad Max wondered if it would be better if she scratched them bloody. Pain had to be better than the incessant, torturous itchiness...

"Nudge, you're perfection," groaned Max, her eyes closed.

Nudge giggled, "Thanks! Maybe if we could go to school and stuff – the fun kind where you learn, not _the _School that tries to kill us – like normal kids, I could become a massage therapist. I think I'd be good at it."

"Uh huh..."

"Especially since the problem most massage therapists have is that their hands get all tired and cramped, but we're _made _for endurance! I could totally do it. Iggy's pretty good at giving massages too, but I feel like he would be creepy if he were a masseuse. _Masseuse. _That's such a funny word. I tried to teach Gazzy how to give massages once, but he's like you, he just sort of beats the person up instead of unwinding their muscles. You guys just don't _feel _where the knots are in the muscle, and then you use way too much force, but you really should only use force _sometimes_, the rest of the time you should just be gentle with the knot. Like kneading bread. It _wants _to unwind, it just needs to be coaxed into relaxing..."

"Mhmm..." Max was a puddle of useless, relaxed, jello. Happy, happy jello.

"Hey, Max?" said Nudge eventually, speaking quietly enough that the bird kids below wouldn't hear them. Max grunted incoherently in response. "I just wanted to tell you that everything's gonna be okay. You're just molting, we think. If you are, then this is normal, we'll all go through it. You're just the lucky oldest."

"I know," said Max, more alert now. Dang it, she was tensing up again.

Soon after the flock had noticed that Max was losing feathers, they sent an e-mail to Max's mom and then consulted the internet about molting – it had been the first explanation that they could think of, since Max didn't feel sick at all. Not to mention that they had no idea if some mysterious illness that caused baldness in bird kids even existed.

Much to Max's horror, Google had said it could take weeks or even _months _for molting to finish, depending on the species of bird.

"But we heal quickly, so maybe you'll finish molting quickly, too," Angel had said, wrapping her arms around Max's waist comfortingly. Max knew there was a reason Angel was her favorite.

Somewhere behind them, Iggy and Gazzy had still been snorting with laughter.

When Mom had sent Max a reply, it had essentially said there were a few reasons for losing feathers, such as a bad diet and stress, and that molting happened to certain breeds of adolescent birds. She had recommended making sure to eat healthily and to try and relax a little (like _that_ would ever happen), but otherwise to just wait it out.

Max hated waiting. Especially when she _couldn't fly_.

Geez, she hated this. And there was that panicky, trapped feeling tightening in her lungs. Yet again, Max began regulating her breathing.

Behind her, Nudge redoubled her efforts on Max's wings and shoulders. "Don't worry Max, I promise we're all being really careful. Even Iggy and Gazzy. We won't draw attention to ourselves. You're like half our sister, half our mom. Even if we do need to run away, we won't ever fly away and leave you behind." Well, that was nice. But where the heck did all of this emotional crap come from? "We'll just steal a car or something, it's not like we've never done that before. I'm getting really good at hot wiring things now! What I'm trying to say is, your feathers will grow back, nothing bad will happen, and you'll fly again, even if you can't right now. So, don't worry, and stop hating your wings."

_What?_ That was personal and...strangely astute. Could Nudge read minds now? Was she talking with Angel behind her back?

"Don't be stupid," dismissed Max. "I just hate that I can't fly. You know that. Um, thanks for the pep talk, though." It

"It's funny, the thing about being able to feel emotions off of things is that, sometimes, you can tell when people are lying through their teeth about something because you can _feel _the truth off of what you're talking about," said Nudge as she worked her magic on Max's wings. "You know, hypothetically. And by hypothetically, I mean I call BS, 'cause that's what's spewing out of your mouth."

Max twisted her head around and glared. "You are _not_ allowed to be snarky. _I'm _snarky. I have the freaking _monopoly_ on being snarky. I have the trademark. If you want to be snarky, _you have to pay me._"

"Whatever." Nudge rolled her eyes, looking so much like an attitude-saturated teenager that it made Max want to slap her. "My point is, it's gonna get better. We're designed to fly, you know? And even though I hate the white-coats and I want them to die the worst kind of deaths possible, like in hell or in a nitric acid bath or something, they knew what they were doing. You're not suddenly going to just fall apart."

That...was actually very comforting. Max eased up a little, taking a deep, cleansing breath that for once _wasn't _meant to fend off a panic attack. Maybe Nudge was right. Maybe everything would be okay – well, as okay as it could be for bird kids on the run, but for Max that was alright.

And then, because she was Nudge, she ruined it by talking too much: "Well, you won't fall apart unless you've reached your expiration date. But I don't think you have!" she quickly added, "'Cause you don't even have a funky tattoo on your neck, and if the School could make us die from some biological preprogrammed self-destruct sequence they probably would have done that already, at least to some of us. Surely they don't want us _all _alive. Like, especially after Gazzy blew up that one building. They totally want _him _dead. And you don't even have any headaches like Ari did before –"

"Nudge, stop talking."

"Yup. Got it. Shutting up."

Nudge was pretty much finished by that point, and she wiped the remaining Anti-Itch cream on her palms off on her bedazzled jeans while Max pulled on her clothes. She would just have to deal with the ointment drying against her shirt, because she would not let the whole flock see her hideous, naked wings. It was practically indecent.

Using the edge of the hole, Max swung down to the room below at an angle in order to avoid the bell, her landing making a little dust cloud. Nudge followed, and in minutes the flock was ready for bed.

"'Night everyone," yawned Max, sticking out her fist. Everyone stacked their fists on top of her's, saying something along the same lines. Total trotted up, placing two black paws on top. Angel smiled and scratched him on the head, so Max squelched her annoyance – after all, Total wasn't _really _part of the flock, what business did he have trying to barge in on their traditions? – but he made her baby happy, so she would say nothing. Besides, if Max made a fuss she'd just add a sour note to their night-time tradition for everyone.

"_Thanks, Max,_" Angel's voice said in Max's head with a twinge of pain. "_I'm sure you'll come to accept him in time._"

Max doubted this, but she said nothing.

The six-year-old came up and wrapped her arms around Max's waist. "Good night, Max!" said Angel aloud, reaching up and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

Max pecked her on the forehead (pun totally intended). "Good night, sweetie."

Yawning, Angel went and curled up next to Fang, Total walking around in a few circles before settling at her feet. Nudge and Iggy found their own separate places to sleep. The Gasman was stretched out by the window for obvious and revolting reasons, and Max ruffled his hair fondly before finding her own patch of floor to sleep on, her backpack becoming an impromptu pillow. Everyone was much more spread out than usual due to the summer heat.

Inches from her face, Max looked at her dark red friendship bracelet, turned black in the darkness.

"G'night Ari," breathed Max, so quietly that even Iggy couldn't hear her.

With Fang taking the first watch, Max slept.

* * *

**A/N: I love Nudge. I really, really do. I love them all, really. They're so much fun to write.**

**Except for Total. If you couldn't tell, I'm not a Total fan. He was just so...pointless. Kind of like Dylan that way, but not _nearly_ as bad.**

**In case any of you didn't know, Fang went to the drug store for the medicine when he was out looking for a hideout with Iggy and The Gasman. I thought that was pretty easy for the reader to infer, but if it wasn't, let me know. I might change it.**

**The first time I saw a bathtub in a church, I was so confused.**

**For those of you who don't know, squatting means living somewhere without authorization or permission – like an abandoned building, or someone's house when they're gone on vacation. Someone who squats is a squatter.**

**The most experience I have with cities are fleeting glimpses through a car window whenever I pass through, television, and pictures on Google, so if anyone actually lives in one and thinks I messed something up, please let me know. Same thing if you notice any mistakes or have any questions. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.**

**Also, I should have said this before, but the picture for MR:PPOD isn't mine. It's just something I got off of the internet.**


End file.
